Scar
by TwiggyBlack
Summary: The power the Dark Lord knows not. Love. If the key to finally defeating Voldemort is forgiveness, does Harry have a chance? Set Final Battle, possible ending. AUHBP Spoilers


**Scar**

**Author's Note: The meanest ending humanly (or wizardly) possible. This is by far the worst thing that could happen at the end of the book. Urgh. **

**Just a random plot bunny. One-shot-y-ness. Wow. This is the only one-shot I've ever written. AND IT'S NOT RON/HERMIONE? What's up with that?**

**So yesh, this is a mean ending to the final Harry Potter book. That I, under no circumstances, want to actually happen. Starts at the Final Battle, goes from there. **

Harry stood in front of the Dark Lord. It wasn't uncommon to see him there, as Harry had come face-to-face with him more often than anyone else. The battle raged on behind them, but Harry's green eyes only stared into the fiery depths of Lord Voldemort's.

_How ironic it would be,_ Harry thought,_ if I just died tonight, and this was all pointless._ It was actually worse. Dumbledore, Cedric, Sirius, his parents, all dead because of him. But if he died, they would have died for no reason at all. And it was all his fault. He was supposed to save the wizarding world.

Harry felt a surge of power. He _was_ supposed to save the wizarding world. And he would. He could vanquish Voldemort, easily. All that was left was finding out how.

Voldemort wasn't doing anything. He stood, looking at Harry, probably thinking of how to mess with his mind. Harry couldn't use the Killing Curse. Even with seventeen years of hatred behind him, he couldn't use hatred.

Harry thought of everyone dying for him. For him, so he could save everyone else. They had helped him. He remembered Cedric, first his enemy, then his friend. He helped Harry, even if his life depended on it. He trusted Harry with his body, to take it home.

He thought of Dumbledore, who had been with him since the very beginning. Telling him what the Mirror of Erised was, to telling him that love would save him, to telling him to listen and obey his commands, to letting Draco have another chance, and letting Harry fight on his own. Dumbledore was always there. This past year was hard without him, on the hunt for the Horcruxes with Ron and Hermione. They were still students, and still mediocre wizards. They had a lot to learn. Dumbledore left when they needed him, but Harry still felt his presence.

And Sirius. His father's best friend before he met him. One who suffered through years in Azkaban, still on his lonesome. Even in the short amount of time he knew him, Sirius became somewhat of a father to him. He was his godfather. Harry could always depend on him to be there. Harry felt at fault for his death, even after so many people telling him it wasn't. James had picked Sirius as a friend—and a godfather for Harry—for a reason.

And his own parents. Lily and James fought until the last moment to protect him. And Lily did. Harry wondered that if she could see him now, would she be proud? James certainly would. His loyalty to the Order had stayed with him until his dying moment.

Harry felt a sense of compassion towards these people. They had fought and died so that he, Harry, could finally rid the world of Voldemort. Voldemort wasn't making it easy, but he could do it.

Harry suddenly remembered Dumbledore, and for a vivid moment, he realized why everyone meant so much to him, and they were willing to protect him, as he was willing to protect them. Ginny. He hadn't let her stay with him. And yet she persisted, even with his warnings of him not being able to let her go. He let her go because he loved her.

_Love._

That was the key to taking care of Voldemort. Dumbledore had said it. Harry himself had felt it when Ginny had run up to him after the Quidditch game. His parents had died for him, along with others. He had to love.

_The power the Dark Lord knows not... _

Voldemort had no sense of compassion towards anyone. His parents had never loved him, as they died, one killed by him. No one had ever felt compassion toward him either. He was obviously a bit strange at school, and only Dumbledore saw his amazing potential.

Harry squared his shoulders. Voldemort's piercing eyes filled his heart.

"Now is your time, Harry."

"No. It is yours. Your time to finally go."

"The real Dark Lord is more powerful than his Horcruxes, little Harry. Much stronger."

"And he has more experience." Harry began to tick events off on his fingers.

"When I was one. You couldn't defeat a one-year-old child."

Harry held one finger up, feeling the wrath of the Dark Lord's glare.

"When I was eleven. Ten years later, you still couldn't rise against an eleven-year-old boy. With the Sorcerer's Stone right in your reach, you faulted because I was loved."

He then held another finger up.

"Only one year later, as a memory, a seventh year versus a second year, you failed again. And I saved someone else in the process. Your snake was defeated by Dumbledore's bird."

Harry had to hold back a quiver when he said Dumbledore's name. Voldemort could not know his weakness.

"Then, after your filthy rat servant returned, I thwarted you once again. In my fourth year, I saw your rebirth. I wasn't too impressed, Tom. A duel, that you wanted to have, and my power overcame yours.

Four of his fingers were now held up.

"You've had an awful lot of practice. You couldn't kill me."

Voldemort was still angry, but he had a plan that Harry could see behind his eyes. Harry could tell it wasn't a nice plan.

"Ah, yes, Harry. I couldn't defeat you. But you had the aid of others every single other time. And all of those people, I defeated."

"Before your parents were various members of the Order of the Phoenix, included your dear Mudblood mother's friend Dorcas Meadowes. My Death Eaters managed to kill almost everyone else, including their other friend, Marlene McKinnon and her family."

Harry took a deep breath.

"Then, obviously, there were your parents. Poor Mudblood scum, and your imbecile father."

"You godfather, what was his name?"

Harry clenched his teeth.

"Hmm. Oh yes, Sirius Black! He was weakened by the deaths of your parents. Then Azkaban didn't help his current predicament. He lost a lot of loved ones, his family not included. His friendship with Peter Pettigrew. Marlene McKinnon's death beforehand shook the lot of them, besides Peter, who helped in the murders. Then I took the life of his precious Cassy. Then, of course, were your parents."

Harry didn't know who half of those people were. He would have to ask Hagrid. _If he survived... _

"Many, many more, and then your friend Cedric. Then Black himself, then Dumbledore."

Voldemort sensed Harry's power building up, and he would have to finish poor Harry off before he could act against him.

"But now Harry, it is your turn."

Harry imagined Ginny running up to him. When he felt her body pressed onto his, he realized it wasn't his imagination.

Voldemort's red eyes gleamed in the bright green light that was charging Ginny. Harry stood in front of her and whispered, "I love you."

The flash bounced off of them just as Harry finished saying "you." It hit a Death Eater, and the blonde hair from under the cloak could only mean Lucius Malfoy.

Voldemort stood, shell-shocked, but he regained his cool quickly.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry knew he couldn't save himself this time. In a split second, the light grew brighter.

_The power the Dark Lord knows not..._

"I FORGIVE YOU, TOM RIDDLE!" Harry screamed.

The flash of light evaporated, and that was all he remembered.

Harry Potter woke with a start in his cupboard under the stairs. He felt a cold sweat across his face, damp and dank. He suddenly sat up, trying to remember his dream. The boy touched his forehead, trying to remember a dream that had something to do with his scar.

**A/N: Yesh, the Destined Tragedy reference is copyright to Rohanelf. (Of Quizilla. And DeviantArt.) Destined Targedy is the best fanfiction ever. Yay. **

**So to clear anything up: Harry is still ten, I guess. And the ENTIRE THING IS A DREAM! Bwa. Ha. Ha. Meaning the entire SERIES is a dream. Not cool. **


End file.
